Right Now
by Julia9
Summary: Complete A little ficlet that starts during 'End of Days'...lots of fluff, li'l bit of plot.


  


**Right Now**  
By Julia

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**Spoilers**: 7.21, **End of Days**.   
**Rating**: PG-13 (for languge)   
**Summary**: pure fluff…with just a dash of plot. How I would have ended **End of Days**.   
**Disclaimer**: Most of the beginning dialogue belongs to Josh and the execs over at ME. I just needed a little bit of fluff to brighten up my day. So basically, it's not mine, it never was, I just borrowed Buffy and Spike for a while. 

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Spike could see lights gleaming from Buffy's house as he walked slowly down the street. It looked out of place; the town was practically deserted, endless streets of darkened houses, but 1630 Revello Drive shone like a beacon. He could hear it calling, pulling him in closer. Patting the pockets of his duster for a cigarette, Spike made his way up the front steps of the porch. His pockets were empty and his hands trembled slightly as they reached for the doorknob. 

_Here goes nothing_, he thought, pushing open the oak door. The entire house was dark, in the kitchen a light was on, casting long shadows down the hall. Potentials were scattered around the living room, blankets and pillows covering the Oriental rug. 

Spike breathed in a deep, unnecessary, sigh of relief. At least Buffy wasn't waiting for him; Spike needed a chance to sort out his thoughts before he saw his Slayer again. 

Swinging the door shut, he stepped into the foyer, looking around before walking further into the house. A step creaked and he looked up, knowing instinctively who was going to be walking down the stairs. 

Buffy felt her stomach drop the instant her eyes made contact with Spike's. She shivered, clutching the banister with a sweaty palm, determined not to make a fool out of herself. Hesitantly she took another step down, her blood pounding furiously in her ears. 

Suddenly the scythe felt heavy in her hand and Buffy kicked herself for being so emotionally detached. Why hadn't she waited until Spike had woken up to leave? It was just a weapon, not worth losing him over, why couldn't she have stayed in his embrace for a few more hours? 

Spike knew he should look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Buffy's intense gaze. She looked so beautiful, gliding down the stairs like an angel. An angel with the left-hook of an Amazon. 

Suddenly the note in his pocket felt like it was made of lead and Spike cursed himself for being a sentimental fool. What did it matter that she had thanked him? They were just words, nothing more, why was it so important to keep the paper they were scribbled on? 

Somehow Buffy's feet had carried her to the second-to-last step, making her just a little bit taller then Spike. She swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. 

_Get a grip_, she thought, _it's not anything's changed_. 

Spike looked up, tipping his head back so he wasn't staring at Buffy's chest. _Definitely not the way to start off a good conversation_, he thought. Their eyes met again and he swore that sparks flew between them. It was one of those moments that Spike had only ever dreamed about, over the instant he realized what was happening. 

_Pull yourself together mate, it's not like you haven't done this before. Same rules as always, nothing's different. Gotta say something, anything. _

Buffy froze, looking down at Spike hesitantly, hoping that he would say something, praying that he wouldn't force her to make the first move. 

"You're home," he said. _Christ, could I sound like anymore of a ponce? _

She nodded, "yeah." _Wow, that was original, monosyllabic much? _

They stared at other for a minute, before Spike finally realized that Buffy was holding something in her hands. Tipping his head towards the shiny weapon she was clutching tightly, he raised an eyebrow. 

"Secret mission turned out alright then? Got the Holy Grail? Or the Holy Hand Grenade, whatever the hell you're calling that?" 

Buffy stifled a giggle, she loved how Spike talked. He had a way with words that made everything seem sexual or comical or bitingly sarcastic, depending on his mood. 

"We've settled on scythe. What d'ya think?" 

Biting her lower lip between her front teeth, Buffy waited for Spike's answer. She had no reason to be nervous, but for some reason her heart was pounding like she had just come in from running a marathon. 

Staring intently up the stairs, Spike watched the way Buffy's eyes flickered back and forth. She was nervous, that was obvious, but why? Was she upset about last night? Had he overstepped some unknown boundary between them? 

"Well, it's…" 

He paused, searching for the right word. Suddenly they all came rushing out, faster then he wanted, but Spike was powerless to stop them. 

"It's pointy. Can't say I'm too excited about the wooden end, but it gets the message across. Has a bit of flair. Touch more sophisticated then your everyday crossbow. Can see why you'd leave a bloke for one of those." 

Buffy's face fell, showing her vulnerability for an instant before her eyes hardened and her lips tightened into a thin line. He's gone too far, said too much, thrown them into even more uncertain territory. 

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, walking down the stairs and past Spike. 

He watched her retreating back as she went into the kitchen, debating between following her or just going down into the basement. Exhaling violently, Spike strode angrily into the kitchen. He was tired of dancing around tough conversations with Buffy. 

_This stops tonight_, he thought, _it's time to finish something for once. _

Buffy stopped in the entrance to the kitchen, almost waiting for Spike to catch up to her. He smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up, maybe there was a snowball's chance in hell that this was going to work. 

"Suppose it doesn't matter. You're back home, forgive and forget. All that rot." 

Moving to stand in front of Buffy, he continued, trying his best to maintain some level of composure. 

"Last night was just a fluke. Bit of cold comfort. Let's just forget it ever happened." 

Buffy's eyes widened, glad that she had let Spike set the tone of their conversation. _Least I know where we stand. _

"Great," she said, her voice shorter and angrier then she'd expected. "I have work to do." _Back to business as usual. _

Spike's eyes narrowed, what was she playing at? She left him but leaves a note on the pillow; she doesn't say a word about them but gets pissed when he can't read her mind; she's like a bloody yo-yo, up, down and everywhere in between, all in the course of a conversation. 

Looking over at the empty kitchen, Spike tried to figure out the best way to get Buffy to talk to him. Anger, now there was an emotion they were good at dealing with. _At least it'll get her talking._

"Right, that's fine. Don't have to get all shirty about it." 

Buffy spun around, her eyes blazing. Smugly Spike realized that he'd finally gotten through to her, this was the first real display of emotion he'd seen since walking in the door. 

"I'm not shirty. And what the hell is shirty anyway? That's not even a word!" 

Shrugging, Spike moved past Buffy, ready to walk out the door. He'd done his part, played the last card in his already pitiful hand. Now it was her turn, her decision to make. 

Buffy watched, open-mouthed as Spike strode casually towards the door. _Arrogant bastard, what the hell is he doing? After last night I thought we'd made progress towards…something, but now we're right back where we started. _

"You're a dope," Buffy snapped, smiling when she saw his shoulders stiffen. 

"I'm a what?" 

Spinning around slowly, Spike looked at Buffy carefully, his eyes narrowed. Licking her lips, Buffy hoped that she was making the right decision. She knew that once she started talking, the words were going to spill out beyond her control. 

"You're a dope. And a bonehead. And….you're shirty!" 

Spike's eyebrows narrowed, "have you completely off your rocker?" 

Shaking her head, Buffy plunged ahead. 

"Don't you get it? This thing, this scythe, is the only thing I've got right now. And the reason I'm holding it is because of you. Because of what you did for me last night." 

She sighed, looking up at the ceiling, willing herself not to break down into tears. 

"Look, Spike, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of the mixed signals and this other defensive bullshit. I'm so sick of dancing around talking to you about what happened last year. I'm can't pretend that we're okay because we're not, we can't be okay when we're like this. So you know what, this is it. I'm laying it all out now and if you want to walk out that door, then go ahead, but I need to say this. I don't know how you felt about last night, but I…." 

Spike's jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists, the veins in his neck clearly visible. 

"Terrified." 

Snapping her head up, Buffy's eyes narrowed into slits. In spite of herself, she could feel her face softening and a vague warmth in her chest. 

"Of what," she asked softly, almost afraid of Spike's answer. 

Shaking his head, Spike looked up at the ceiling. Buffy waited, frozen in place as Spike looked anywhere but at her. Had she finally pushed him away? Was this how they were going to end, at an awkward standstill? 

"I can't do this," he muttered, more to himself then to Buffy. 

"Spike," she pleaded. _Please don't let him stop, not now, not when we're so close. _

"It was the best night of my life. And if you laugh at me, you better use that thing. It might not mean anything to you but…" 

Buffy broke in, "I just said it did." 

_When did Spike become so insecure? _ She had never seen him so vulnerable, he was almost afraid to keep talking. 

"Yeah, I know. Heard the words, but doesn't mean much. I've done everything Buffy but last night was different. I've never been close to anyone, specially not to you. Least of all you. But last night, it was different. And it wasn't anything amazing, not really. I just held you, watched you sleep, listened to your heartbeat…and it was perfect. Best night of my bloody life. So yeah, I'm terrified. Terrified I'm going to fuck this up, good and proper, same as before. Don't you get it, I'm not cut out for this, it's not who I am. I can't…" 

"Don't." 

Her voice cut through the jumbled mess of thoughts swirling around in Spike's mind. 

"Don't think that this was the end." 

Spike knew he shouldn't ask, he should just let her keep talking, but he had to know. 

"Were you there with me?" 

Nodding slowly, Buffy took another step closer, her eyes never leaving his. 

"I was." 

Another step, inching closer and closer to him. Spike wanted to back up, move until he was flush against the wall. He couldn't do this again, it wasn't right, he would just hurt her again; he always hurt her in the end. 

Buffy's hand was trembling as she reached out to cup Spike's cheek with her palm. His cheekbones felt like they were carved out of ivory, cool and clean with sharp lines. She swallowed hard, this changed everything, there was no going back. 

"I was there with you." 

Her voice is soft, her breath like butterfly wings against his skin. Spike tried to think of some reason why they shouldn't do this, any feeble excuse. But his mind, for once is blank, and he couldn't say a word. 

Dropping the scythe to the floor with a dull thud, Buffy brought her left hand up towards Spike's cheek. She cradles his face between her palms, the pads of her fingers just grazing his skin. Her eyes widen, asking for him to do something, anything to make this easier. 

Spike wraps his arms around Buffy's waist, gently pulling her body against his. His hand finds its way to the back of her neck, underneath the neat bun of hair, guiding her face closer to his. Their lips are a mere breath apart, and they're both frozen, paralyzed with uncertainty. Slowly they break the invisible walls between them, Spike's lips gently caressing Buffy's in a languid embrace. 

The kiss is gentle, it's not fire and need, but instead it's passion, pure and utter adoration. A kiss of acceptance, of understanding, the answers to all the unasked questions hanging between them. Buffy presses her body against Spike, she needs to feel his arms around her, she wants to feel like she did last night, safe and at home. 

At that moment the entire world could collapse on itself and they wouldn't notice. All that matters to them is this moment, the feeling of finally being together. 

_I'd do anything for her. _

_I never want this to end. _

_This could be the last chance I'll ever have. I need to tell her, at least say the words again. _

They break apart and stare at each other, not sure what just happened. Buffy opened her mouth, not sure what she was supposed to say, but Spike's words were faster. 

"I love you." 

Her eyes widened to almost comical proportions and for an instant Spike thought that she was going to pass out. 

"I know." 

Laying her head against his shoulder, Buffy finally allowed the tears she had been holding back to fall. 

"I thought you didn't anymore. Not after what happened. And I never got to tell you that I'm sorry." 

Lifting her red face, Buffy looked at Spike, her eyes glittering with tears. 

"I thought I'd lost you." 

Fresh tears coursed down her face and Spike sucked in a deep breath. His fingers brushed away the gleaming droplets. 

"You didn't. You couldn't." 

Buffy smiled through her tears, "thank you." 

"For what?" 

"For believing in me." 

Her voice dropped to just above a whisper, "for loving me." 

Spike's eyes widened, he'd never expected to hear those words from Buffy. Then he realized that she was still talking and he tried to follow what she was saying. 

"And when this is all over, maybe then we can actually…" 

She trailed off, looking hopefully at Spike before continuing. 

"Maybe we can try this again. Do things right this time." 

He smirked, "guess that means wrecking a house is out, huh?" 

Buffy's smile broadened and she leaned in to whisper in Spike's ear. 

"Not necessarily." 

THE END 


End file.
